A Day Gone Wrong
by Beregond5
Summary: Movieverse, AU. Elladan and Elrohir go for a hunting trip near the Trollshaws area. When Elladan gets badly injured, however, things start going from bad to worse. Old fic going through re-editing.
1. Part 1

_A/n: Lord Of The Rings was the very fandom for which I started writing fanfiction. However, my writing was a lot different back then (aka I was trying to find my way around things) and my writing skills were rather lacking. Nevertheless, for nostalgia's sake and because I wanted to have all of my stories in one place, I decided to upload them anyway. So, after some brushing up, here they are. I hope you enjoy them in spite of it all. :)_

* * *

A robin flew amid the branches of the trees that surrounded Rivendell, welcoming with its chirps the rise of a new day. The little bird knew that the inhabitants of the great house which dominated in the fair realm would be having breakfast now, so it was more than eager to land on the balcony nearest to the dining table; it was quite certain that at least one of the Firstborn would place a few crumbs for it. The summer was over and autumn bore its last fruits before nature fell in its winter sleep, and the feathered creature had to make sure it wouldn't get hungry just yet.

The robin waited by the edge of the balcony for a few moments, chirping and hopping happily, until its patience was finally rewarded. The gentle rustling of a dress and soft footsteps were soon followed by the graceful form of a black-haired beauty, holding in her elegant hand her own treat for the meek guest.

"_Mae govannen, tithen mellon,_" Arwen said softly, noticing the robin. "_Aníral mado, thenid?_" Without waiting for the obvious answer, she let the crumbs fall from her hand onto the stone floor of the balcony. Smiling at the robin's happy chirp of gratitude, she went back to the dining hall to finish her own meal.

Her father and brothers were also there, still having breakfast. Strangely, though Elrond Half-elven and the twins were eating, there didn't seem to be much cheer at the table. In fact, a keen eye would have been able to observe the quick, yet full of regret glances that all three cast towards another, empty chair. It was Estel's chair, the Man whom they had fostered, and who was destined to become known in the years to come as Isildur's heir and rightful king of Gondor.

The Lord of Imladris caught sight of his sons looking at the empty chair again and sighed. Putting his fork down, he faced both Elladan and Elrohir and cleared his throat to make sure he got their undivided attention.

"I miss him as well, you know," he stated, cutting into their train of thought. "Nevertheless, he made a choice and we must respect it."

"Must he wander all Middle-earth like some wildman though?" Elladan asked, unable to hide his bitterness. "Denying his right to the throne of his ancestors is one thing, but this seems unnecessary!"

"He is not alone out there, Elladan," corrected Elrond. "He is with the other Dúnedain, learning the ways of his people."

"But, father, _we_ are his family. He has grown amongst us, not them!" Elrohir said. "I will not deny that the Rangers are an honourable folk, the blood of Númenor still flowing strong in their veins. Nevertheless, his home is in Rivendell."

"Perhaps for Estel, Elrohir, but certainly not for Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Now that he knows his true heritage, he must learn the ways of the people whose bloodline is much closer to him than ours. Only then can he decide what he is to do next in his life."

"Was that what he said?" Elladan asked.

"It was something that we both agreed to on the last discussion we had," Elrond replied.

"But we could have helped him in that decision, father! We know how important this is to him!" Elrohir argued.

The wise half-elf shook his head solemnly. "That was out of the question. He is an adult by Men's standards and more mature than many out there. He needs to test his strengths on his own."

Elladan and Elrohir fell silent, realising that their father's words made sense. Arwen's eyes darkened, however; for another thought lingered in her mind.

"This was not the only reason Estel left and you all know it," she said quietly. "He went away because of me."

Elrond and the twins looked at her in sympathy. The day they had discovered that Aragorn and Arwen not only had met, but had even started having feelings for one another, had proved a most embarrassing one. True, they were partly glad about the chance meeting of the two. Aragorn and Arwen would make a beautiful couple and share the joys of the world together. But logic warned them that a Man marrying an Elven-woman could bring a lot of pain and suffering as well. After all, wasn't Lúthien Tinúviel an elven-maiden who fell in love and married a mortal man, only to die and share the fate of Men? None of the three wished that for Arwen.

"Yes, I will not deny that," Elrond admitted after a few moments of silence. "But, Arwen, trust me when I say that the Ranger's life will prove a most instructing one for Estel. It will offer him the opportunity to sort out his thoughts and feelings for what came to pass between you two. So do not fret, daughter: it is probably for the best that things turned out the way they did."

Arwen nodded slightly, acknowledging her father's opinion on this but not feeling particularly comforted.

"Did you get any recent news from him, by the way?" Elrohir asked. "I was hoping he would send a letter telling of his whereabouts from time to time."

"Indeed, I have news," Elrond answered with a small smile. "Your grandmother has informed me that Estel is enjoying the hospitality of the Elves in Lothlórien for the time being, and he intends to stay there for a month or so."

"No injuries?" Elladan ventured to ask.

"No injuries," answered Elrond mirthfully.

"That is a welcome change," Elrohir noted. Aragorn was a lad full of curiosity for the world around him, driven by an undying thirst to see and know everything. It was a trait that made the Man different from the rest of the Secondborn that the Elves of Rivendell had encountered. On the other hand, it was also a trait that got him into trouble quite often.

"Any news concerning his return?" Elladan asked, unable to hide how much he missed his foster kin. The Man had lived for many years with them, and Elladan didn't wish for their ties to be broken.

"Nothing, I fear to say, my son," replied Elrond, saddened to see the disappointment written on Elladan's face. Elrohir draped an arm over his brother's shoulder in comfort.

"But that does not mean that he is not thinking of returning, is it not so?" Arwen said, looking at her father hopefully.

"Yes, quite right," Elrond said. "Who knows, he might be back when we least expect it."

"That will be hard to believe," Elladan sighed. "It is so different here without his presence, father. To be perfectly honest, there is hardly a day by passing which I do not think he will come through that door, rubbing the slumber off his eyes and excusing himself for oversleeping again."

In that moment that the door opened slightly, but it wasn't Aragorn as everybody half-expected. It was Glorfindel, fully armed and clothed for a long ride.

"Elrond?" he said, standing proudly in front of the Lord of Imladris, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "The patrol and I are ready to set out. Do you want me to keep something under consideration before we leave?"

"Nothing, except that you all return safe," Elrond answered with a smile. The seneschal was considered by everyone as part of the family after many long years of service, and Elrond was quite fond of him. After all, Glorfindel was the Elf that had literally given his life for the safety of Elrond's ancestors, facing one of the Balrogs that razed the fair city of Gondolin to the ground. And when he was resurrected by the grace of the Valar to yet again protect Elrond and his family, the Lord of Imladris was grateful. He knew he could always find unrelenting support and trust in the face of this old friend.

Glorfindel smiled as well. "That goes without saying." With that, he headed toward the exit, but Elrohir's voice stopped him.

"Elladan, we have not gone hunting for some time. What say we ride out for some tasty game?"

Elladan's face actually beamed at that, and he faced Elrond. "May we go, father? We will only hunt within the borders of Imladris!"

Elrond wasn't certain this was a good idea. The Orcs from the neighbouring mountain had become bolder and they were seen even in the nearby area of the Trollshaws. On the other hand, he couldn't deny his sons' wish. They were accomplished warriors, able to defend themselves against any danger. Besides, a hunt would put aside their sad thoughts about Estel.

"All right… As long as you are careful!" he said in the end, trying to make himself heard over the twins' cries of joy. After all, he was still a parent, and it was his right to worry about his children even after they had acquired beards as long as Círdan's!

The twins, however, were far too happy to notice that.

"Last one to the stables is an Orc!" Elladan cried out, jumping off his seat and heading for the door. Such was his haste and eagerness that Glorfindel had to step aside before he was knocked over. "Sorry, Glorfindel!"

The seneschal shook his head in amusement, then swiftly side-stepped again before the other young Peredhel ran over him as he shot after his brother.

"Sorry too, Glorfindel!" Elrohir cried and then shouted to Elladan, "And the first one has to kiss him!"

Glorfindel faced Elrond and Arwen, sighing and dropping his arms in melodramatic defeat, and then he graciously followed the twins at the stables.

With a small smile tugging on his lips, Elrond called one of the Elves in the household to clear the table and he rose to take up his usual work in his study. Arwen accompanied him gladly, wishing to talk with her father a little while longer.

"There are times like these that make me wonder if I am truly the youngest of us three," she said in mild tease, her eyes shining brightly as she recalled her brothers' antics. "They act as though they are still children!"

"Indeed," Elrond agreed, but his face darkened as black thoughts entered his mind. "And yet I prefer it to the almost mindless hate they show at any Orc they come across; especially after what happened to your mother."

Arwen saddened at the memory, for she recalled the incident only too well. The torture Celebrían had gone through in the hands of the Orcs was so terrible that, by the time Elladan and Elrohir freed her, her soul had been completely broken. Her only chance to find peace was to sail to the Undying Lands and, after she was gone, Arwen went to Lothlórien, finding comfort in her grandmother's care. As for Elladan and Elrohir, they let themselves be consumed by loathing for the Orcs, hunting down and slaying every such foul creature that was unfortunate enough to cross their path.

"I am glad that it is over," she murmured, her hand clasped around her father's arm. "I still remember your letter regarding their behaviour. It sounded as though you spoke of different persons."

"I was," Elrond sighed. "In fact, this is one of the reasons that I thank the Valar for bringing Estel into our lives. It is thanks to him that their kindness resurfaced in their hearts, and their hatred finally changed into wisdom and compassion."

"We have all grown through that sad event," Arwen noted, her eyes resting on the lines on her father's face. Though Elrond proved the most stoic in the family during that time, the fair maiden knew just how much Celebrían's predicament cost him. She contemplated matters and, as another thought crossed her mind, she looked at him shyly.

"Father… had you known about mother's fate, would you have still chosen her as your wife?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on Elrond's lips. "I loved her. That should be enough as an answer."

Arwen remained silent, something that made Elrond stop in his tracks.

"Should I ask why you made that question? Or is the answer so clear?"

Arwen simply blushed. Sighing heavily, Elrond decided to address the matter first.

"I know Aragorn quite well. Despite what I have said before, I doubt his feelings for you will ever change. What I want to know, though, is of _your_ feelings towards him."

Arwen hesitated for a few moments. "I have not encountered many of the Secondborn. Nevertheless he seems noble-hearted and kind. You have raised him well."

Elrond's lips tugged to a smirk. "That is not what I asked and you know it."

Arwen bowed her head, realising she couldn't evade her father's question as easily as she wished. "Then I am forced to say, father, that I cannot give you any clear answer when I have none to give."

Elrond cupped his daughter's chin, prodding her gently to look at him. "I am certain you will find the answer in time. And then you will do as your heart bids you to - like I will," he added, a bit more harshly than he wished.

Arwen looked at her father, puzzled and unaware of the glimpse that he had already cast into her future. For Elrond, having the gift of foresight, had indeed seen part of her fate and he didn't like what he had seen. It was only his belief that nothing was ever certain that kept him from speaking his mind more clearly and declaring that he was against a potential marriage between Aragorn and Arwen. He would only do such a thing when there was no other choice left in him.

That, however, was neither here nor there. Remembering himself, Elrond caressed Arwen's cheek lightly in affection

"Do not heed me when there is no need," he said. "I must go to my work. Will you be in your room?"

"Either there or at the library."

"Then I will send word to you when it is time for luncheon. Till then, Arwen."

"Till then, father," Arwen said with a small bow, and they parted.

* * *

The two young horses pricked up their ears when they heard familiar footsteps rushing to the stables, and the black stallion, Sadron, quickly reared on its hind legs, while the pale-haired mare, Malthen, stomped her front leg on the ground. Both were quite excited, since they had grown tired of staying indoors. Now that they sensed their masters approaching, the prospect of a ride seemed certain. Asfaloth, on the other hand, regarded the young horses from his own stall and snorted loudly, as if disapproving such antics as inappropriate for dignified Elven-horses who served Master Elrond's sons. Nevertheless, he went close to the door of his stall and waited for Glorfinder, brown eyes keeping a lookout for him; he could sense his master approaching also.

None of the horses had to wait long. The stable doors burst open and a very amused Glorfindel walked in, followed by a pair of bantering twins.

"I have to note, brother, that it was unfair of you to pull my cloak like that, trying to slow me down," Elladan declared in mock annoyance.

"While making me stumble was so much fairer!" Elrohir pointed in the same tone.

"I did no such thing!" Elladan opened the door for Sadron to come out and the stallion quickly buried his head on his master's chest in greeting.

"Then may I ask how a branch managed to get tangled at my feet?" Elrohir asked, raising an eyebrow in manner very much like their father. Malthen whinnied softly, happy to see her own master as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Perhaps you are clumsy," Elladan answered with a mischievous grin.

"Glorfindel!" Elrohir cried. "You saw what happened, did you not?"

"Oh, I did," Glorfindel answered as he brushed Asfaloth. "I saw two Elves falling in a big heap on the ground, while _I_ walked graciously past them to reach the stables first."

The twins exchanged a glance at the realisation.

"Remind me not to ask your opinion again," Elrohir finally said, and he led Malthen outside.

"The same goes for me," Elladan seconded. "You are worse than father when you rationalise things."

"I take that as a compliment," Glorfindel said with a chuckle, his dark-blue eyes shining teasingly as he walked out of the stables as well.

"Elrohir," Elladan said then, pretending that he didn't notice the seneschal close behind them, "do you have that bucket of icy-cold water ready to throw it on his face when he returns from his patrol?"

"You only have to give the word, brother."

Glorfindel stared at them, agape. "You would not dare!"

"I do not know… Would we?" Elladan grinned, finally facing Glorfindel.

Elrohir laughed out loud, but the seneschal simply cuffed them both on their arms.

"You two are impossible," he declared. "Come along, the rest of the party is waiting for us."

* * *

Arien was well on her way to the highest place in the sky-dome when the patrolling Elves reached at their first stop. Glorfindel guided Asfaloth close to the twins' horses, his eyes fixed on the large clearing before him.

"Are you certain this is where you want to venture?" he asked the twins. "This is not any of your usual haunts."

"That is why there is bound to be more game to catch," Elladan said in a confident tone.

"It is still too near the Trollshaws," the seneschal noted.

"Glorfindel, rest assured that we will not stray from the borders of Imladris," Elrohir said.

"Do not get me wrong, my young friend. You know I can trust you. It is in any trespassing Orcs that you will find my faith lacking."

"Ah, but we can always have faith on your vigilance," Elladan said with a broad smile, patting Glorfindel's shoulder.

"Not to mention we have been taught how to fight by the Balrogslayer himself!" Elrohir seconded, grinning.

"I take that as a compliment, too," Glorfindel said softly, a rare blush colouring his cheeks.

The horses shook their manes, eager to move on. As Elrohir patted Malthen's neck reassuringly, Elladan faced the seneschal and waited for his final answer. Glorfindel's dark-blue gaze drifted to the oldest of the twins, regarding him for many long moments before finally replying.

"Well, I suppose you can go. When you return to the Last Homely House, tell your father-"

"That you and the rest of the men will be back in two weeks' time. You have already told us three times!" laughed both Elrond's sons.

"Just making certain," Glorfindel replied with a small smile. "Till our next meeting, young ones!"

"May the stars shine upon you, old tutor," answered Elladan and Elrohir.

Glorfindel nodded his farewell and rode off with the rest of the party, leaving the twins to their hunting. The young half-elves smiled and prodded their horses forward and soon they were marvelling at the vast vegetation and small life they discovered. It was while riding that an idea crossed Elladan's mind, and he faced Elrohir with a grin.

"Brother, what say we separate?"

Elrohir, however, frowned. "Do you think it wise? We are not familiar with the grounds."

"One hunting area is not all that different from another," Elladan pointed out.

Though Elrohir had to admit that his brother had a point, something warned him they should stay together, at least on this first venture.

"What if we come across anything else?" he asked, hoping to dissuade his brother. "And do not tell me I now sound like Glorfindel! You know his worry is not unjustified."

"Nevertheless, I will give you the same answer we gave him," Elladan answering. He pushed his cloak back to reveal his sword, still buckled on his side. "He taught us well, brother. Why this restlessness all of a sudden?"

Elrohir checked himself. It was actually a very valid question. The hunting trip was his idea after all, and he didn't mind when Glorfindel expressed the same fears only just a while back.

"You did not like the idea that we should separate, did you?" Elladan said, cutting into his train of thought.

The youngest of the pair nodded without realising it. Yes, that was probably one of the reasons, but it wasn't the only one, he knew that much. However, he couldn't tell that to Elladan without sounding insane, so he bowed his head, uncertain as to what to say.

In the next moment though, the sound of hooves indicated that Elladan was coming close. And, sure enough, his brother's hand clasped on his shoulder.

"I am aware of the love you have for me, brother; I have it for you as well. It is a rare thing for the two of us to go anywhere without the other following. And yet there are times that one wishes to be alone. Do you not feel this way?"

Elrohir's look was enough as an answer.

"Then let us make it one of these times," Elladan said. "If anything, it will be interesting to see what we will be able to catch without the other's help." he added in a playful tone, earning thus a smile from his brother.

"Are you proposing a wager then?" Elrohir asked.

Elladan grinned. "I am indeed. The one who brings home the best prize will hand over his chores to the… less fortunate one."

"I do not suppose that means the 'less unfortunate one', as you eloquently placed it, will be freed from his own chores?" said Elrohir, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Elladan said with a chuckle.

"Then I take your wager," came the grinning answer.

"Excellent! We will meet again after five hours to see what each one has accomplished. Prepare to accept defeat, brother!"

"How odd, I was going to say the same thing to you!" Elrohir laughed. "Five hours it is, then."

With that, each brother rode onto his way, not knowing what awaited them.

* * *

Elladan walked cautiously through the woods, his bow and arrow in hand in case he spotted any worthwhile game. He had dismounted Sadron, leaving him to graze on the blades of grass a few feet away, hoping that he wouldn't disturb the quiet of the forest if he were on foot. T, however, didn't seem to be the case, and the elf couldn't help but feel displeased with himself. It wouldn't be long before he would have to his and Elrohir's meeting point, and he hadn't caught anything so far. He cringed, not wishing to think what would happen if he appeared before his brother empty-handed.

Just then, the sound of a twig snapping made his ears prick up and he put his sharp hearing to work. He smiled as he recognised the soft footfalls some distance away from him and, making sure he stayed against the wind, he approached as quietly as possible to some thickets. Moving several branches away carefully so he could see better, he located what he had been looking for.

The three deer still in the centre of the clearing, unaware that they were being watched. The females of the group were eating, partly hidden by a great male, who was holding up his head as he kept vigilance, and Elladan marvelled at the magnificent animal. Deciding that he had found his prize, he raised carefully his bow and arrow and took aim.

To Elladan's misfortune, a flock of birds took off from some dense trees in that very moment, their squawks of panic startling the deer and making them run off. Dismay yet not wishing to give up, Elladan jumped out from the bushes and ran after them. He shot an arrow at the male, but the projectile missed the creature by a mere inch.

Even so, Elladan still gave chase. With his eyes constantly on the animal, he nocked another arrow, but the deer jumped over a big log and vanished out of the Half-elf's sight. Gritting his teeth in stubbornness, Elladan instinctively jumped over the log too.

It proved one of the greatest mistakes in his long life: when he landed, he found himself sliding on a rough slope. He tried to keep his balance, but it was impossible. The next thing Elladan knew, he lost his footing and tumbled down at great speed, getting knocked about in every rock he encountered as helplessly as a puppet. A sharp pain from his leg surged through his whole body, making him cry out; but his heart, called for his brother even louder.

Just when it seemed his fall would never end, he felt himself crashing on another, larger rock, and then there was nothingness.

TBC...


	2. Part 2

Elrohir ordered Malthen to stop as he felt his body tensing. He looked around, trying to find anything out of the ordinary, but there was nothing to be seen. The forest was quiet, as it was supposed to be. Yet why was he certain that he had heard someone calling him.

_Elladan?_

But Elrohir shook his head at once. It couldn't be his brother. Elladan was on the other side of the area, too far away. Even if he had called, Elrohir wouldn't have been able to hear him from such a distance. Still, the same sense of worry that gnawed his mind before he and his twin had parted resurfaced, and for a moment he considered looking for Elladan.

_Do not be ridiculous, _he chided himself. _Elladan can take care of himself_. _He does not need you to get worried about him constantly._ The last thing he wanted was keep listening to his older brother admonishing him for letting a mind's trick get the better of him.

Concentrating on anything worthwhile to hunt, he prodded Malthen on. Though he felt that that was a mistake, he convinced himself that he would meet Elladan shortly, and then he would simply laugh at the foolishness of his fears.

* * *

Elladan forced his eyelids open. He didn't understand where he was at first. He was actually quite perplexed to find himself flat on the ground and looking up at the sky. He tried to move, only to wince at how heavy his head felt. Finally, the recent memories caught up with him and he berated himself for his foolishness. Elrohir would never give him a moment's peace if he ever found out about that. Sighing, he unconsciously rubbed his forehead in an attempt to rid himself of the discomfort he felt, but he drew his hand back when he felt something moist on his fingers.

It was blood. Indeed, when Elladan ran his hands over his face, he found out that half of it was covered in the crimson liquid. He traced his scalp delicately to find the injury, relieved when he realised that it was no longer bleeding. He tried to sit up, but the pain that coursed through him was so terrible that he had to bite his lower lip as not to scream, but it was in vain. He slowly opened his eyes, and he winced to see that his right leg was twisted in an odd angle, clearly broken.

There was nothing for it. He had to bring help. Elladan let out a long whistle.

"Sadron!"

A neigh sounded from afar and, a few moments later, the black stallion appeared. The horse looked down at the slope, and he was ready to venture down to reach his master. The moment his hooves touched the slippery ground, however, more earth crumbled and hit Elladan on the face.

"_Baw, Sadron! Dartho ennas!_" Elladan cried. He didn't want to risk Sadron breaking his own legs, not with all those loose rocks.

Sadron snorted, obeying.

"_Lasto beth nín, Sadron! Hiro Elrohir, heniach? No celeg!_"

The stallion neighed in understanding and quickly disappeared out of his master's sight. Elladan allowed himself the luxury of a smile; he knew that Sadron would do his best not to fail him.

Still, there were other things that had to be taken care of – namely, his leg. Since his father had taught him well in the art of healing, Elladan knew that he had to set the bones once again. That was something which would both difficult and painful.

Checking himself, he saw that his quiver was still strapped to his back, while his sword was safely buckled at his side. Thinking fast, he used his sword to cut off the straps and tie them into a long leather piece. Wincing in pain, he carefully tied one end of the improvised rope around the ankle of his broken limb. Making sure his aim was good, he threw the other end at the crack of two smaller rocks away from him, securing the buckle there. As soon as he took a couple of breaths to prepare himself, he clutched the rock next to him and pulled his leg. The buckle didn't budge from the crack, giving enough resistance to force the leg to stretch and the bones to be set straight with a sickening crack.

Elladan screamed at the pain and then went limp, trembling violently: he never expected it to hurt so much! Even so, he took deep breaths and gradually composed himself. He knew that, in a situation like this, the worst thing he could do was let fear overcome him. Yes, Arien was still high up in the sky, but Elladan couldn't expect Sadron to find Elrohir before nightfall, which meant he had to build a fire. Its flames would serve as light and protection in the darkness of the night.

He got back on his feet, although he sourly had to admit that standing up was easier said than done, what with the shape his leg was in. Even so, he knew he had to do everything necessary if he wanted to survive. So, he slowly hobbled in search of firewood, careful not to put any pressure on the broken leg. As he still moved slowly and cautiously, he dearly hoped Sadron would return with Elrohir before anything worse happened.

* * *

Elrohir walked back to the meeting point he and Elladan had agreed on, Malthen following close to his heels. The wild ducks that he'd managed to catch at a lake nearby were good enough prize to challenge his brother's wager, but he still couldn't feel pleased with himself. The sinking feeling that had settled in his heart only became greater, making him more uncomfortable with every passing moment. Something kept tormenting him; warning him that things were terribly wrong and that he should act.

_But what am I to do?_ Elrohir thought, exasperated.

A couple of angry growls and Malthen's small snort of apprehensiveness reached Elrohir's ears and he stopped on his tracks at once. Cocking his head, he listened on and recognised the inhuman screeches for what they were: Orcs. And, by the sound of things, they were moving in his direction.

"_Delio!_" he whispered to Malthen.

The mare obediently crouched and hid amid some bushes close by, while Elrohir climbed up a tree, staying perfectly still and waiting with bated breath to see what would happen next. Not a moment too soon, for it was then that the Orcs came into view.

Elrohir's heart beat harder against his chest. He had hoped that no Orcs would dare enter into the realm of Imladris. Was it possible that his sense of foreboding was due to their appearance here? Curiosity overwhelming him, he watched the foul monsters walking and interacting. They moved slowly, their backs hunched, growling and bickering amongst themselves. Elrohir clenched his jaw as their scimitars cut every tree and their feet stepped on every patch of nature, ruining it. As his blood boiled in his veins, he curled his fingers around the hilt of his sword, ready to jump down and smite them all, one by one. A part of him warned him that the Orcs were too many and trying to confront was folly, but Elrohir didn't care. He would make sure they paid for their trespassing.

Just then, however, Elrohir remembered his father. He remembered Elrond's face one night after he and his brother had hunted down and killed off another Orc patrol of the foul creatures outside of Rivendell; for it was a face of utter defeat and disappointment. Neither of the twins had understood then why that was. They had only tried to keep Rivendell safe, surely?

_No, _Elrond had said back then. _You only rode out to seek out revenge. Your mother doesn't need avengers, but her sons to be safe._

As those words echoed in the back of his mind, Elrohir sheathed his sword back in place. No, he shouldn't try to deal with the Orcs on his own. But he couldn't let them roam freely in Rivendell either, especially since they were heading in the very direction his brother had gone. He had to find Glorfindel and the others. Since he knew the usual route the seneschal took while patrolling, there was a good chance that Elrohir would be able to reach him before the Orcs discovered Elladan.

With that in mind, he waited till the Orcs were out of sight, and then whistled softly to Malthen to come out. The mare complied at once and stood next to the tree, so that her master can jump on her back. Elrohir took a deep breath, then landed lightly and gracefully on Malthen, prodding her to ride on. There was no time to lose.

* * *

Though his leg still throbbed in pain, Elladan nevertheless allowed himself to smile. The fire he had built warmed him pleasantly and he had even managed to gather some spare firewood so there was no fear that the flames would die out any time soon. Now he could focus on his injuries more carefully. So, he rested his back against the rocky slope behind him and crushed the leaves of the healing plants he always kept in his pouch, placing the paste on the gash on his head. He hissed at the stinging sensation, but he knew it only meant the medicine was taking effect. After making some makeshift dressings out of his travelling cloak, he bandaged his head and then placed two large branches on each side of his broken leg, tying them together with the rest of the shreds. He sighed when he felt his injured limb was much firmer. He still couldn't move it much, but at least the pain had subsided.

However, Arien was a couple of hours away from her journey's end; Elrohir could see it only too clearly. There was nothing he could do about it, however. His fate now lay in his horse and Elrohir. Elladan closed his eyes, trying to ease the tension coursing through him, and heaved a sigh.

It was then that a howl made Elladan sit up. Worse, Elladan heard another Warg answering to the first haunting call. The young Half-elf pricked up his ears, listening carefully to the beasts' conversation as he understood part of their tongue. But the tale that the Wargs told amongst themselves was a terrible one. They had found meat to sink their jaws in, and they would hunt it down to feast on its flesh once it was dead. It was already weakened and its strong limbs wouldn't carry it for long.

Elladan covered his face with his hands. He understood what the Wargs were after only too well.

"Sadron." A sob escaped Elladan's lips. "I sent you to your death, my faithful one." And then, his own death would follow. Without the stallion's guidance, Elrohir would never be able to find him. Elladan was alone.

The young Elf's heart almost fell to pieces at this dreadful thought. Was that how his life would end? Perish in the jaws of the beasts?

The crackling sound of the wood being burnt snapped Elladan out of his despair, and, as he caught sight of his quiver, still in his hands, an idea formed in his mind. Once night fell, he would release a fiery arrow up at the sky. If he did this at regular times, somebody, hopefully Elrohir, would notice the signal and so locate him. The hope was faint, since most of his arrows were broken - only ten were in one piece. Still, it was the best chance Elladan had.

Another howl filled the air. Elladan listened to it with bated breath, but his heart missed a beat when he understood what the Warg's call meant. It was the call for the pack to gather round for their new kill, for the smell of fresh blood was in the air.

He was discovered.

* * *

Elrohir was still riding when he felt the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He darted his gaze in every direction, trying to find the unknown danger that seemed to draw near, but there was nothing. He ordered Malthen to slacken her pace, as he checked himself, trying to find an explanation for the feeling of dread that had settled in his heart. It didn't take him to realise, however, that these emotions weren't his.

_Elladan._

His brother was in danger, Elrohir was sure of it. Even so, Elrohir didn't know what to do. He ought to ride back, but from where would he start looking? And there were the Orcs to be considered as well, since they were still roaming in the woods of Imladris. No, there was no doubt left in the Elrohir's mind. He had to find Glorfindel and the others at all costs.

Commanding Malthen to a frantic gallop, he rode on in search of the seneschal. And all the while a soft prayer kept flowing out of his lips as he begged the Valar to preserve his brother till he found him again.

Elladan watched the glimmering pair of eyes that lingered in the shadows, moving in and out of sight. Arien had disappeared some time ago, and everything was covered in the grey cloak of twilight. The young Elf pressed himself against the rock behind him as the gradual darkness made him more than just a little uncomfortable. He didn't want to feel the jaws of any Warg on his back.

One of the great wolves stepped out of its hiding place, approaching cautiously and with purpose. The large, black beast's eyes never left Elladan, even as it first sniffed the air and then the ground quite meticulously. The scent it was picking up was certainly enticing, for the creature licked its chops hungrily.

The warg was studying him, scrutinising the elf in an attempt to decide how good a meal he would be. Disgusted and abhorred at that realisation, Elladan grabbed a stone and threw it at the warg, hitting it on its side before the beast could avoid it.

The warg's yelp of pain and surprise was instantly replaced with a guttural growl of dismay. Elladan simply threw another stone at it, forcing it to leap back to the shadows.

Deciding that he had made his point for now, Elladan dropped the third stone he had picked up in the meantime, and he breathed deeply to suppress the flaring wrath within him. When he calmed down enough, he used the opportunity to look at his surroundings and he saw that Ithil hadn't risen yet, so everything was still bathed in darkness. Sighing in resignation, Elladan hugged his good knee and remained still, waiting.

* * *

Glorfindel was staring at a great fire burning in the middle of the camp he and his men had set up, when a young soldier approached him.

"Sir?"

"What is it, Tinugal?" Glorfindel asked, facing the young elf.

"The sentries have been placed in the posts you appointed them."

"And what has their report been so far?"

"Negative. There are no signs of Orcs."

"Good. Let us hope it stays that way."

"Yes, sir."

Glorfindel remained silent for several moments and then looked up at Tinugal once again.

"Rest. We will set out early tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Tinugal said, bowing his head courteously. In the next moment, however, he stopped in his tracks and faced Glorfindel again. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"With all due respect, perhaps you should have some rest, too. It was a long ride."

Glorfindel smiled inwardly. The soldiers always looked up to him like some kind of a hero, and they wished the best for him. Glorfindel personally could never see himself under that light; he believed others were more worthy of such a title, like Ecthelion. Still, it pleased him that the soldiers showed him such trust.

"I will go shortly," he said. "Goodnight, Tinugal."

Tinugal smiled and then walked away, leaving his commander alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Elladan's eyes narrowed as he heard the suspicious rustling of the bushes nearby, but a snarl made him turn around, just in time to see two shapes fighting amid the shadows. The great black warg was there too, sitting a few feet away, his tongue hanging loosely from his jaws and his red eyes reflecting his contempt toward his would-be victim. The other wargs, on the other hand, avoided looking at the black one in the eyes; they simply dropped their tail between their legs the moment he glared at them. It didn't take a great mind to guess that the black warg was the leader of the pack. Under other circumstances, Elladan would have marvelled at the discipline of such creatures, but, since they were out there to make a meal out of him...

He shuddered at that thought, tightening his grip on his bow and quiver. He sighed when he looked at the remaining arrows, for he had already shot two of them before the pack had arrived, and now he had only eight to spare.

_Not enough_. What was more, he couldn't use any more arrows as a signal for help; he had to save them in case the wargs attacked. He would still die, but at least he could take some of the wargs down with him. With that thought, he moved slowly so he didn't agitate the pack, and he placed the quiver between his back and the rock wall, steadying it there. This way, he would reach his arrows quickly and shoot them at the wargs.

Despite his efforts, however, the wargs suspected what Elladan was up to, and snarled their dismay. A young warg even got bold enough to jump at the Half-elf, followed by two more. The first one landed dead on the ground with a thud, an arrow buried on its chest. But the other two, to Elladan's wonder, were pushed aside by the black warg. Howling in pain, the two disobedient wargs exposed their under parts in a sign of peace, but the black warg didn't show any mercy. he slashed both their throats in the blink of an eye. All the other wargs leapt away with their tails between their legs, not daring to interfere.

Elladan watched the scene in disbelief. Apparently, the wargs were ruthless enough to even kill each other without remorse, a thought that sickened the elf. His eyes locked on the bloodstained jaws of the black warg, who faced his prey. The warg bared his teeth momentarily and then sat again on the same place he had been sitting before. For _he_ was the one to decide when it was the best time to attack; Elladan understood that much.

"What are you waiting for?" he muttered under his breath, glaring at the warg. His hand felt the sword by his side. "I can give you a taste of my blade!"

The warg simply sat and watched, unnerved, something that made Elladan grit his teeth. He didn't intend to let them catch him in his sleep, though; his elven heritage allowed him to stay awake for days on end. Yet the mental strain he was going through now wearied him far more than he wished to, and he wished his brother were here more than ever. Then perhaps the situation wouldn't seem so bad.

_Ai, Elrohir,_ he thought. _Where are you?_

It was then that, to his wonder, a new strength of will swept through him. Something within him insisted that he shouldn't give up, at least not yet. And Elladan smiled, because he understood that it wasn't his own conscience encouraging him.

_I will stay alive, brother – for you_, he thought.

TBC…

**Footnotes**

_Baw, Sadron! Dartho ennas!_: Don't, Sadron! Stay there!

_Lasto beth nín, Sadron! Hiro Elrohir, heniach? No celeg!_: Listen to my word, Sadron! Find Elrohir, do you understand? Hurry!

_Delio!_: Hide!


	3. Part 3

The first thing that Elrohir had done when he had felt Elladan despairing had been to encourage his brother by concentrating his thoughts towards him. There had always been a connection between them, a sort of bond, but he had never tried something like this before, admittedly. When he felt Elladan calming down, however, he couldn't help but allow himself the luxury of a smile. Perhaps nothing was lost just yet.

Nevertheless, Elrohir knew that he still had to find Glorfindel and the other Elves as quickly as possible; he needed help if it meant rescuing his brother.

Just then, as if right on cue, Elrohir's sharp sight located a dim light far away in the darkness of the night; the light of a fire. Aware that he had finally found the patrol, the young Elf swiftly rode to the direction of the flames, shouting out Glorfindel's name.

* * *

"Celnar?" one of the elven soldiers said, addressing his comrade.

"What is it, Fuindir?" Celnar asked.

"I am not sure. It sounds as if somebody is calling out Lord Glorfindel's name." Fuindir squinted, trying to see better into the darkness, and then his mouth dropped open. "It is Lord Elrohir! And he's riding this way!"

Celnar stared at Fuindrir incredulously. "Alone?"

"It appears so."

Celnar frowned. Something was wrong, he could feel it. "Lead him to the camp. I will summon Lord Glorfindel."

Fuindir nodded his understanding, and he rushed forward to meet the young Elf.

* * *

Celnar sounded the alarm, and all the soldiers got back on their feet, their weapons in hand and talking amongst themselves. They couldn't help but wonder what had happened and young Elrohir had ridden all that way to find them. Their murmurs ceased altogether, however, when Fuindir appeared with Elrohir, who was still riding Malthen.

Glorfindel walked up to them, a frown of concern on his features. "Elrohir, what is amiss? Where is Elladan?"

"I do not know," Elrohir said, trying to catch his breath. "But I fear something terrible has happened!"

Glorfindel gripped Elrohir's hand tightly, trying to calm him down. "Easy. Breathe. Count up to ten and then tell me everything from the beginning."

Elrohir complied, finally composing himself, and he started telling his tale. Glorfindel listened to everything the young Elf had to say, taking in the information and thinking hard.

"As I was riding here, I felt Elladan again," Elrohir concluded. "I think the Orcs must have found him and taken him prisoner."

"That… or something worse," Glorfindel said softly.

"What do you mean?" To say Elrohir was puzzled would have been an understatement.

"There is a tight pact between Wargs and Orcs," Glorfindel answered. "When the Orcs are on the prowl, the Wargs follow them, hoping they will get a meal out of the dead the Orcs will leave behind should there be a clash. Vice versa, when the Wargs give chase, the Orcs follow them to get their claws on everything worth plundering from the Wargs' victims: weapons, armour, you name it."

Elrohir paled as realisation caught up with him. "Are you saying that it was no mere chance that the Orcs I saw passed the boundaries of Imladris?"

"I am," Glorfindel said. "If the Wargs located Elladan, the Orcs are bound to go in that direction as well… And then it's a matter of which party will get to kill him first."

Elrohir felt like his heart stopped beating on the spot.

"I have to find him!" he cried out. As worry overwhelmed him, he swiftly grabbed Malthen's reins, intending to ride back.

"No, Elrohir!" Glorfindel said, grabbing the reins as well to hold Malthen in place. "You are not alone." The seneschal faced Celnar and then nodded in the direction of their horses. Celnar nodded his understanding and started giving out orders, arranging for the patrol's departure.

"Glorfindel, if what you say is true…" Elrohir started, fear lacing his words.

"Then riding out on your own will not help your brother," Glorfindel said, cutting in. "Besides, you know which direction Elladan and the patrol of Orcs have taken. We need you to guide us."

Elrohir opened his mouth to object again, but Glorfindel held a hand in silence.

"We will be ready soon," the seneschal promised. "Stay your heart for a little while longer; that is all I ask."

Elrohir's hands clenched into fists, but he had to admit that Glorfindel was right. Acting rashly wouldn't help Elladan.

"All right… I will wait."

Glorfindel smiled a bit. "Good." And with that, he hurried to prepare his own gear.

* * *

Elladan watched the flames of the fire he built slowly dying down, much to his dismay. The twigs he had managed to pick up in spite of his state were too thin and therefore consumed too fast to his liking. At this rate, he would find himself in complete darkness before Ithil was high up in the night sky.

That was something that the Wargs seemed to be aware of as well. They had grown much bolder now, circling Elladan so close that the young elf could see their breath crystallizing as it came in contact with the cold air. Some of them were even growing impatient and were pacing back and forth, their eyes fixed on Elladan. Elladan was aware that they could smell the dried blood on his brow, making them restless and eager to sink their jaws on him.

Elladan let his gaze drift, looking for the leader of the pack. He finally found him sitting a little further away, as though he was a mere spectator of the scene. The great Warg even yawned in quite the bored manner, making Elladan's blood boil in his veins. It seemed that Warg was all too confident about his victory… and the worst part was that Elladan couldn't actually blame him for such confidence.

Just then, Elladan caught sight of his broken arrows and he smiled. Of course, the solution was under his very nose. Though the arrows were quite useless for defending himself, they could still serve as firewood. He picked five of them and cautiously ventured to cast them into the fire.

Unfortunately, the great black Warg saw what his prey was up to. He swiftly stood up and he growled at his pack, giving them the signal to stop their would-be victim from replenishing the fire. Two Wargs obeyed at once and lunged at Elladan, but Elladan was prepared for them. As soon as he saw the attack, he grabbed his sword and swung it at them.

The first Warg fell, his neck slashed and blood oozing out of it. The second one, however, quickly aimed its jaws at the armed arm. The razor sharp teeth tore the thick fabric of the Elf's tunic, sinking into the soft skin, and Elladan couldn't help but scream. He tried to pull away, but it was no use; the Wolf's grip was too tight. The rest of the Wargs tensed at once, waiting eagerly for the outcome of the fight.

Desperate and frightened, Elladan reached for the one way out of his predicament. He stretched his free arm and grabbed one of the broken arrows that he had intended to put in the fire. But, as he stretched, he also made the mistake of leaving his throat exposed, the pale skin standing out under the moonlight.

Such an opportunity was obviously too good to pass up. The Warg that had been mauling Elladan's arm loosened his grip and aimed for the elf's life-vein.

The other Wargs swiftly closed in, certain that the killing was as good as done, but great yelps of pain made all of them jump back at once. For it wasn't Elladan that had ended up slain. Indeed, the Warg that had been so close to its victory was now lying dead over the Peredhel's body, an arrow buried deep into its right eye.

Breathing heavily, Elladan rolled the Warg's body off of him, a small smile of triumph tugging on his lips. And, as he put the rest of the broken arrows into the fire, he locked his gaze on the leader, pointing his blade at him.

"You will have to come and kill me yourself."

The black Warg bared his teeth, dismayed, but Elladan didn't let that bother him in the slightest. He simply rested his back against the rocky wall once more and started tending his arm. He couldn't help but wince when he saw that most of the flesh had been ripped open, blood flowing freely from the wounds down to his clothes and the ground.

Nothing for it then. Though the motion pained him, Elladan gritted his teeth and took off his tunic, making shreds out of it to bind his injured arm. Even as he worked, he still kept his eyes on the Wargs. He was aware that the only thing that he had managed to do was buy himself some time before the fire inevitably died down and the wargs attacked by the numbers. He could only hope that it was enough time for his brother to come rescue him too.

* * *

The elven soldiers were still on their horses, but they had stopped moving some time ago, for Glorfindel and Elrohir had sent two scouts ahead to see whether the path was clear. None of them spoke, trying to make as little sound as possible as they waited for the two elves to come back. But, when they heard a gentle rustling of leaves, they looked up at once, just in time to see Tinugal and another Elf by the name of Angapher jumping down from a tree and in front of the patrol.

"What news?" Glorfindel asked.

"We have located the Orcs," Tinugal answered. "They have set camp for the night in a clearing not too far away from here."

"And they have even placed sentries around, but they shouldn't be a problem. Travelling under sunlight has tired them out and so their vigilance is dropped. We were only a few feet away and still they did not notice us," Angapher said.

"Then this is our chance to surprise them," Elrohir said, facing Glorfindel.

"Maybe it is, Elrohir, but we should not rush matters," Glorfindel said. He turned to the soldiers and gave them the order to dismount before he himself did the same thing.

Elrohir followed suit, standing next to the seneschal. "How do we proceed?" he asked.

"The same way the scouts did," Glorfindel said, nodding at the trees. "And remember, young one: move with caution and stay alert at all times."

Elrohir didn't need to be told twice. As the soldiers started climbing up the trees, he climbed up as well, keeping up with them. They all moved from branch to branch gracefully and lightly, as it was fit to all elves, and it wasn't long before they finally saw the Orc encampment. Glorfindel signalled to four elves, and then pointed at the sentries underneath them.

Understanding, the four elves moved close to the Orcs that were standing in a bored manner nearby, and they struck swiftly and lethally, until there were no more guards left. Once their task was done, they made a sound like a night bird, signalling in this way to the rest of the company that it was clear.

That was the opportunity they had been waiting for. Glorfindel held up his bow and an arrow, taking aim. Elrohir and the others armed themselves as well, waiting patiently for the seneschal's word to attack.

The first Orc to fall, struck by Glorfindel's arrow, never saw it coming; he simply dropped in a heap on the ground, blood oozing from his neck. And, by the time the Orcs realised that they were under attack, more arrows had fallen among them, tearing through the air with lethal speed. Snarling, the Orcs grabbed their swords and prepared to defend themselves against their invisible foe.

"Now!" Glorfindel cried out, leaping out of his hiding place, his sword in hand.

Elrohir and the rest of the elves followed after the seneschal, landing on the ground and starting battling the Orcs. The clamour and mingled cries of triumph and pain filled the ear, all but deafening Elrohir; yet the feel of his blade penetrating every abomination, the dark blood oozing out and spilling on his sword and hand was even more overwhelming. His blood raged, rushing through his veins and making his heart pound rapidly against his chest. His mind was oblivious to nothing else but a single thought: kill. And kill he did.

* * *

Glorfindel slashed down another Orc and found the chance to look at his companions to see if anyone was facing problems with their adversary. He clenched his jaw, however, when he saw Elrohir's handsome face contorted in wrath, stained by blotch of dark Orc-blood; there was no hiding the loathing that Elrohir felt towards the enemy. Worse, it told Glorfindel that the predator, which resided in Elrohir's soul after his mother's captivity and suffering, awoke once it sniffed the first heat of battle. Glorfindel still remembered the possession that had taken over the twins after what happened to Celebrían and it was something that he didn't wish to see happening ever again.

_By the Valar, stay faithful to your training this time,_ he thought. _Stay focused on what we are fighting for!_

He was surprised and horrified, however, when he saw Elrohir suddenly drop his sword and fall on his knees – just as one of the Orcs charged the young Elf. Acting out of instinct, Glorfindel grabbed a dead Orc's scimitar and threw it at the charging one. The blade pierced the Orc's chest before he could harm Elrohir, killing him instantly, but Elrohir never noticed it. He had made himself as small as possible, holding his head in his hands. Glorfindel ran up to him, more than just a little worried.

"Are you hurt?"

Glorfindel didn't get an answer. Elrohir was like stunned, his eyes widened in shock and his breathing coming out in gasps.

"What is wrong?" Glorfindel tried again. He couldn't understand what could have caused this - he couldn't see any wounds! Unless... a terrible suspicion formed in Glorfindel's mind. "Elrohir!"

"El… Ell…a…dan…" Elrohir stammered softly, reaching for the seneschal's sleeve and gripping it weakly. "Help… him."

Glorfindel opened his mouth to answer, but he never had the chance, for a growl alerted him and turned around. Fortunately, Celnar had already rushed to their aid and slew the Orc.

"Thank you," Glorfindel said, nodding.

Celnar nodded back, signifying that there was no thanks needed. He frowned when he saw the condition Elrohir was in. "My lord, he should not be in the open."

"Agreed," Glorfindel said, scooping the weakened Elrohir in his arms. "Lead the men in my stead; I will take him out of here."

"I will not to fail you, my lord," Celnar said. honoured at the trust his commander had in him.

"I know you will not," Glorfindel said with a small smile, and then left the battle, cradling Elrohir close to him. As soon as they were out of harm's way, Glorfindel placed him on the ground, making sure his back was against the trunk of a tree. Thankfully, Elrohir grew calmer, his body losing its tension, and, a few moments later, he was alert once more. He tried to stand up, but Glorfindel stopped him, placing a firm hand over his shoulder.

"Do not exert yourself just yet."

Elrohir obeyed, though his eyes reflected his frustration. "I felt him, Glorfindel. I never sensed him so afraid before. It was as though…" he immediately stopped himself.

"What?" asked Glorfindel, squeezing Elrohir's shoulder in encouragement.

Elrohir hesitated. In the end, though, he let the words flow out of his lips in an almost inaudible whisper.

"Like he was about to die."

Glorfindel swallowed hard. "Is he-?" he ventured.

"He still lives."

"Are you certain?" Glorfindel asked.

Elrohir bowed his head. "I want to be," he said softly.

There was the sound of footsteps, and Glorfindel turned around. Angapher was standing a couple of feet away, his mace still dripping Orc-blood.

"Sir, victory is ours. All the Orcs have been destroyed and the bodies are being disposed of as we speak."

"What about our people?" Glorfindel asked.

"No losses. Five carry severe wounds, but nothing life-threatening."

"Very well. You can go on ahead, we will join you shortly," Glorfindel said, nodding discreetly in Elrohir's direction.

Probably sensing the young elf's upset state, Angapher complied with Glorfindel's order. Glorfindel watched the soldier go and then turned to Elrohir, who seemed to have composed himself at last.

"Are you feeling any better, my friend?"

Elrohir nodded, but Glorfindel could see that the young elf's hands were clenched into fists.

"I understand," the seneschal said. "Just tell me when you feel up to facing the other Elves without your emotions betraying you again."

Elrohir looked up, eyes meeting Glorfindel's. And then, he did something that he hadn't done ever since he was a boy, wishing for the protection of an adult to fight away his fears. He buried himself in Glorfindel's embrace, clinging on him as though in an attempt to shield himself from the evils of the world. Such was Glorfindel's surprise that he couldn't help but act on instinct. He returned the embrace, holding the young elf in place, offering him his comfort. No words were exchanged; neither of them seemed to be up to it. Glorfindel just wished he could take the burden off Elrohir's shoulders… and prayed with all the strength in his heart that they'd find Elladan alive.

* * *

Elladan rubbed his forehead, trying to rid himself of the splitting headache that had settled, dulling his senses to the point of stupor. He couldn't understand what was happening to him: his body was shivering as though registering cold, but his head felt hot as if it was on fire. He could feel drops of sweat trailing down his face even, something that troubled him. Something was very wrong. He racked his mind, recalling what had happened in the past hour in the hopes of finding the answer to the puzzle. It was when he replayed in his mind his conflict with the Warg, however, that his eyes widened in realisation.

Cursing loudly, Elladan undressed his injured arm, and he saw that indeed the bite marks were infected. The edges were marred black and, to his horror, the inflammation was getting worse. Working swiftly, he reached for his pack. Elrond had always insisted that his sons carried some healing plants in their packs in case of emergency, and now Elladan couldn't be more grateful that he had followed his father's advice. Once he found the leaves he had been looking for, he crushed them leaves and placed the improvised salve on the wound. The wound stung, no question about it, but nevertheless he let the leaves to do their work. Once he wrapped the bandages around the leaves as well, he took a deep breath waited, hoping he had fought off the danger before the infection was beyond help.


	4. Part 4

As time passed, Elladan registered that the sick feeling that had almost overwhelmed him was slowly ebbing away. Wanting to be sure, he placed a hand on his brow, and he sensed that his temperature had dropped. He sighed in relief; he could worry about one less thing now.

Speaking of worrying… Elladan remembered himself and cast a look on the fire before him. He was dismayed to see that the flames had died down, something that, in consequence, made the Wargs grow bold again. Worse, when the elf looked at the amount of his firewood, he saw that he was down to three large branches. Once they were consumed as well, he would be left in darkness and at the mercy of the monsters.

_Well,_ _I won't fall without a fight_, he thought. He wouldn't give the Wargs the satisfaction of surrendering.

He caught sight of the Wargs, which were still circling him closely, and then he looked back at the remaining firewood. As an idea formed in his mind, he grabbed one of the branches, trying not to heed the angry growls of the Wargs. Some of them even took a few bold steps forward in a threatening manner, wanting to frighten the elf, but Elladan wasn't daunted. When a couple of wargs were within range, he threw the branch amid the dying embers. The fire came to life at once with new vigour, bright red sparks leaping at the foul beasts' eyes, all but scorching them blind.

Yelping helplessly, the Wargs retreated with their tails between their legs, knocking several more of their companions in their haste, and cowered amid the bushes to lick their singed fur and wounded pride.

The black Warg watched the scene with a clear expression of indignation and disapproval in his red eyes, and then looked at the elf. Elladan looked back at the monster, unafraid, and that was how they stayed for a long time. It was as if the darkness in the beast's heart and the light within the Peredhel's soul were engaged in combat, fighting for prevalence and neither of them backing down.

* * *

Celnar was the first to notice Glorfindel and Elrohir coming back to join the rest of the group, and he walked up to them to give them his report. The situation was just like Angapher had said. Most of the Elves had minor wounds, but five of them were in bad shape; they had to be returned to Rivendell, so their injuries would be treated properly.

Glorfindel listened to everything Celnar said with utmost attention. Elrohir, however, was in such an emotional turmoil that he couldn't register anything. His gaze, seeming as if locked onto the void, certainly betrayed that much. Glorfindel put a hand on Elrohir's shoulder in a gesture of support, but he knew he had to see to another matter at hand.

"Who has remained unscathed?" he asked Celnar.

"Tinugal, Angapher, Fuindir and I, sir," the other elf answered.

Glorfindel nodded his understanding. "Find those three and tell them to be ready to set out again; we will continue our search for Elladan. The rest are to escort the five badly injured ones back to Rivendell."

"Yes, sir," Celnar said, yet his gaze drifted momentarily to Elrohir, his question evident in his eyes. Would the young one be able to fight?

Glorfindel answered the silent question with a reassuring nod. Elrohir was a capable warrior but, more importantly, his brother was in danger. He wouldn't bear to be left behind.

Celnar nodded, trusting Glorfindel's judgment, and then he turned on his heel to see to his orders. He had just disappeared out of sight when a short, bitter chuckle reached Glorfindel's ears, surprising the Balrogslayer. He faced Elrohir, for it was the young one who had let out that strange sound, and he cocked his head in a questioning manner.

"What is amiss?"

"He wanted to hunt alone," Elrohir answered quietly.

A frown settled on Glorfindel's brow. "You mean Elladan?"

Elrohir nodded. "He said there are times that one needs to be on his own. That is why he wanted us to separate."

"Surely you do not blame yourself for leaving him," Glorfindel said.

"Of course not," Elrohir replied. He sighed softly. "It set me thinking nonetheless."

The Elf-lord raised an eyebrow, but he let Elrohir continue.

"When I sensed how close Elladan was to his death, fear grasped my heart so tightly that I froze. All I could think was that I was losing my twin; a person who shared with me not only our mother's womb, but even the same thoughts and feelings from the day of our birth. At that realisation, a part of my soul, the one that held Elladan closest to me, fell to pieces." Elrohir wrung his hands, keeping his gaze lowered. "Now all I can wonder is: what shall I do if my brother really…passes away."

"You said that he is still alive," Glorfindel pointed out gently. "You shouldn't give up hope just yet."

"I do not want to," Elrohir said honestly. "But what if, in the end, all we find is his broken body and his spirit gone? How am I to carry on alone forever?"

It was a grim thought, yet Glorfindel actually smiled fondly, his eyes shining with remembrance. "That was what Elladan kept saying the day you fell into the waters of the Bruinen."

Elrohir stared at the seneschal quite confused. "What?"

"You do not remember then?" Glorfindel asked.

"I do not even understand what you are trying to say!"

Glorfindel realised that he had a lot of explaining to do. Beckoning Elrohir to follow him, he took him aside from the rest of the Elves to tell the tale.

"You were toddlers when it happened. Your mother thought that that particular spring day was so beautiful that she talked your father into accompanying her to a walk by the Bruinen. The two of them also decided it would be good for you and your brother to join them as well; you had stayed cooped up in the halls of Imladris because of the winter cold for so long that both of your parents were certain you would welcome the opportunity to walk amid the budding flowers. Celnar, Angapher and I escorted you so we could keep an eye out for danger.

"However, it turned out that you, my young friend, were quite cunning, even in that tender age. You managed to slip by everyone's vigilance and we only realised you were missing when Elladan started acting like mad, shouting that something bad was happening to you. We left no stone unturned as we desperately tried to find you. But Elladan must have sensed where you were, for he had hurried by the edge of the river, calling you.

"Celebrían was the first to actually notice your body, trapped at the bottom of the Bruinen. Crying out in horror, she dived into the water before anyone could stop her, so Elrond and I simply dived after her in order to help her get you out. I do not know how long you had been underwater, but it looked like you had been submerged for quite some time; your face had the ghastliest hue I had ever seen in my long life. Elladan saw as well, and he wanted to hurry at your side. At Elrond's command, though, I did not let him. I still remember how hard Elladan scratched and bit me to free himself from my protective grasp, even while Angapher held Celebrían in place and Elrond tried to revive you with Celnar's aid."

Elrohir listened on, feeling entranced at the story his memory had obliterated. Glorfindel continued, hardly noticing the young one's reactions.

"Everything seemed to have come to a stand still, even though a part of me felt Elladan's light heartbeat against my chest as I held him in my arms. Your brother had finally accepted defeat and he no longer tried to fight back. He just implored you to stay alive in a soft murmur, for he 'did not want to be alone forever'.

"Just when we believed that all was lost, you coughed out the water you had swallowed and breathed once more. Celebrían and Elrond were so relieved that you were alive and yet so shocked at the realisation they could have lost you that they both embraced you tightly. Yet you called for Elladan as well, so I let your brother go. By the Valar, his tight embrace could easily be matched with your parents', despite his age. And all of us adults were astounded at what you two said amid your tears."

"What did we say?" Elrohir asked.

"Elladan rebuked you in quite the motherly fashion. 'You frightened me! Don't do that ever again!' he said. But then, _you_ answered, 'I won't, I promise. I didn't want to be alone forever either, that's why I came back.'" Glorfindel's eyes locked on his young friend. "Do you understand what I am saying, Elrohir?"

Elrohir nodded, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and he clasped Glorfindel's hands in gratitude. "Thank you."

Glorfindel smiled. In the next moment, however, both elves pricked up their ears as they heard a neigh quite some distance away from them.

"I know that horse!" Elrohir exclaimed. Snapping into action, he rushed in the direction of the sound, with Glorfindel close at his heels.

The two Elves weren't the only ones who had recognized the neigh, though. Malthen and Asfaloth had reared their heads and neighed back in response, welcoming their friend. For it truly was Sadron; his stubbornness and loyalty had fuelled him with enough strength to escape the jaws of the Wargs that had pursued him. His wounds were many, and his legs trembled as he had to gallop a great distance while bleeding. Nevertheless, he still had enough energy to walk up to Elrohir to nuzzle him in greeting.

"_Ai, Sadron,_" Elrohir whispered. He rested his head against the horse's thick neck, patting him gently. "_Man cennich, mellon nín?_"

Sadron let out a soft sorrowful whinny, unable to answer, of course. Then, to the Elves' wonder, Malthen and Asfaloth walked up to the stallion and snaked their necks around their companion's as in comfort. Sadron responded to that embrace-like gesture with a small, relieved snort. He was with the horses he regarded as companions once more, and he was safe.

Even so, he wouldn't stand still. He stepped away and stomped his front leg, motioning his head in the direction he had come from. Elrohir and Glorfindel looked at each other, understanding what the stallion was saying. He was returning to his master and he wanted to be followed.

"I will summon Celnar and the others," Glorfindel said. He called Asfaloth to his side to mount him.

Elrohir nodded his understanding and he mounted Malthen, waiting for Glorfindel's return.

* * *

Elladan watched the Wargs closing in around him once again. This time, however, there was nothing he could do about it. He had already used the last of the firewood and, to make matters worse, the flames had swiftly consumed it. The only thing that remained from the blazing fire that had protected him so far was a mere red glow, and it did a poor job at keeping the monsters away. Soon, even this little flicker of the dying flames would disappear, and then everything would be over for Elladan.

In truth, Elladan wasn't certain if he should despair or be relieved. He would perish in the Wargs' jaws, of course. Yet he had grown tired of fighting for what it seemed to be a lost cause; he wanted this soul-sickening wait to finally end. Sadron was dead and Elrohir couldn't possibly know where he was, after all. The one thing that Elladan truly regretted, however, was that Elrohir would sense his death. That, the injured elf supposed, would be devastating for his twin.

_You will not lose me, Elrohir. Death is not the end, but another step along the way,_ he thought, trying to take heart in the hopeless situation he was in_. Just remember me from time to time, while I am waiting in the Halls of Mandos._

A growl snapped him out of his musings, and his gaze drifted back to the fire. He clenched his jaw when he saw that the glow was getting dimmer. There was nothing for it anymore. He'd have to give his last and most desperate battle, a battle from which he knew he wouldn't be coming out alive.

With that grim thought in his mind, Elladan clenched his hands around his sword and he got back on his feet, cringing in pain as his broken leg protested at the mistreatment. He took a defensive position, and he watched the fire's embers growing weaker and the Wargs stepping closer by the minute. Elladan spotted the Black Warg in front of the pack, baring his teeth at him. The Wargs didn't attack yet though; they knew that their patience would soon be rewarded. The flame still flickered weakly, eating the last morsel of firewood in an attempt to stay alive a little while longer. But, finally, with a last dying spark, the red glows vanished and everything was cloaked in darkness.

A howl of triumph filled the air, and the Wargs attacked. The Black Warg was the first to jump and sink his teeth on Elladan, biting him on the shoulder, but Elladan managed to push him away. Another Warg got ready to close his jaws around the prey's broken leg, yet Elladan was faster, cutting off its head. Some Wargs retreated in surprise and fright at the ferocious resistance they encountered, but they attacked again at the Black Warg's threatening growls. Even so, Elladan still wielded his sword with deadly accuracy, slaying every Warg that lunged at him.

It was a brave, but futile resistance, one that wasn't meant to last for long. The Black Warg lunged again, using his weight to tackle the elf onto the ground, and a scream tore off Elladan's chest as his leg snapped in two again. Excited by that sound of agony, the Black Warg gave a mighty howl and opened his jaw wide, ready to tear Elladan's throat. He never witnessed his triumph, though. With a mighty heave, Elladan plunged his sword inside the Warg's mouth and through his head. The Black Warg's eyes stared in shock for a moment; then the flicker of life died out from within them and the great beast fell in a heap on top of Elladan.

The pack froze as they witnessed their leader's death at the hands of their prey, but their stunned reaction didn't last long. The smell of blood excited them further, possessing them and making them even thirstier for the kill. They lunged for one final time, aware that victory was theirs at last. Paralysed by the dead weight of the Black Warg and the numbing pain in his leg, Elladan could only close his eyes and wait for the end to come.

It was then that the familiar sharp twangs of arrows being fired cut through the air, followed by yelps of pain. Startled, Elladan opened his eyes and saw several Wargs fall dead on the ground, the arrows that killed them still sticking out of their bodies. Gaping in utter surprise, he looked up, and his sharp sight helped him make out about five shadows on the top of the cliff. He couldn't possibly see any faces, yet in his heart he knew who was among them.

"Elrohir…"

It was indeed his brother, and he wasn't alone. Elladan recognised the familiar form of Glorfindel, accompanied by four more elves, and all of them charged the monsters with unprecedented ferocity. The Wargs tried to fight back at first, but it wasn't long before they were left in complete disarray and with no choice but to retreat. Though a part of Elladan believed that what he witnessed was merely a trick of his mind, he couldn't deny the sense of relief that swept through his heart. He sank his head onto the ground and closed his eyes once more.

* * *

It was a ferocious fight, and by the time everything grew quiet once more, Elrohir was panting heavily, still clutching his sword tightly. He had seen red the moment he caught sight of the Wargs and had charged without much thought, slashing everything within sight. So battle-frenzied he had become that he would have certainly hunted down the fleeing monsters even if it hadn't been for Glorfindel; for the Elf-lord had quickly rested an assuring hand over his shoulder, stopping him on his tracks.

"That will do, Elrohir. They are gone."

The calm words registered in his mind, and Elrohir sheathed his sword, remembering himself. His brother's safety was more important than revenge at the moment, so he turned on his heel to check on Elladan. He couldn't help but cringe when he saw the body of the Black Warg covering his twin's, but what frightened him the most was that Elladan wasn't stirring. With his heart hammering against his chest, he knelt down, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother's face.

"Elladan?" he breathed out, fearing the worst.

There was a groan, and then the body of the Warg was pushed away just enough to reveal a badly scraped face.

"Hello," Elladan said weakly, a smile brightening his features.

"Hello to you, too," Elrohir replied, relief lacing his words. He didn't even realise that tears of joy had started trickling down his cheeks. "Do you have any idea how worried you made me?" he added.

"I do," Elladan answered, growing serious once. His hand, bloodied by the monster's jaws, reached for his brother's and curled around it. "I am sorry."

Elrohir smiled and caressed Elladan's face tenderly, careful not to aggravate the abrasions. "Do not be."

In that moment, Glorfindel cleared his throat. "I do not know about you, young ones," he said with a slight smirk, "but I think you will be able to have a proper reunion once we remove that Warg off Elladan."

The twins chuckled at that, and Elrohir helped the rest of the Elves to lift the dead body off his brother. The Warg was quite heavy and they had to be careful not to hurt the injured elf further, but finally, Elladan was free. Elrohir couldn't help but wince when he saw the bad shape his brother's leg was in, as well as the great amount of bites and cuts all over the battered body. Luckily, he had a pouch of healing herbs with him, so he would be able to see to most of those wounds and ease Elladan's discomfort. First and foremost, however, they had to see to the broken leg.

"Glorfindel, help me. He needs to sit up," Elrohir instructed.

Glorfindel complied with a nod, understanding what the young one wanted to do. "Did the Wargs do this?" he asked.

Elladan shook his head. "It broke when I fell off the cliff. I had put the bones back in their place but the Warg broke it again with his weight."

Glorfindel nodded his understanding, and he exchanged a glance with Elrohir as the same thought crossed their minds. Elladan's leg would have to be set in place again.

"Brace yourself on me," Glorfindel suggested to Elladan, and he wrapped his arms around the young half-elf to steady him.

Elladan complied, but he couldn't help but tremble when he saw Elrohir gripping his leg. He still remembered the agonising pain when he had set the bones straight the first time around and a part of him didn't want to go through with it again, no matter how necessary it was.

Elrohir hesitated, seeing the distress his brother was in. His eyes locked into Glorfindel's pleadingly for some help.

"Distract him," Glorfindel mouthed so that Elladan wouldn't hear him.

Elrohir understood, and he turned to his brother again.

"I am sorry."

Elladan's eyes looked up, puzzlement in his eyes. "For what?"

"Do you remember the bow Lord Thranduil had given to our father as a token of friendship? The one that was accidentally broken on the day of our coming of age?"

Elladan flared up in an instant. "I knew it!" he exclaimed angrily. "_You_ broke it! I tried to tell father, but he was convinced _I_ did it. Did you have something to do with _that _as…"

He never finished his sentence, for it was then that Elrohir set the broken leg straight with an abrupt movement. A terrible scream rushed out of Elladan's lips as pain coursed through him, numbing his very core, and the young half-elf went limp in Glorfindel's arms, losing all consciousness.

Elrohir froze, taken aback to see Elladan faint, and he looked at Glorfindel worriedly. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Glorfindel assured him, pushing a stray lock away from Elladan's face. "His ordeal simply caught up with him."

Elrohir sighed in relief, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in a tired manner. "It is just as well, I suppose. Now I can look to his other injuries without stressing him further."

"Do you need me here?" Glorfindel asked.

"Not for the time being."

"Then, with your leave, I will gather some wood and vines," Glorfindel said, placing Elladan gently onto the ground.

"What for?" Elrohir asked.

"You will see," Glorfindel answered with a small smile. He stood up and, after giving Celnar the order to stand guard, he disappeared behind some bushes and out of sight. Meanwhile, Elrohir tended Elladan's injuries, cleansing and dressing them with bandages, and he was soon joined by Fuindir and Tinugal, who had the horses by their side. He nodded at Tinugal in approval when he noticed that Sadron's wounds had been taken care of as well, and he couldn't help but smile when the stallion walked up to his unconscious master and nuzzled him affectionately.

"_Nestatha, Sadron. Avo 'osto,_" Elrohir said with a smile.

He had just finished dressing the last of Elladan's wounds when Glorfindel appeared with an improvised stretcher made out of the wood and vines he had found in the meantime. Taking care not to discomfort the injured one, all six elves picked Elladan up as one and placed him on it, and then Fuindir and Tinugal lifted the stretcher, ready to set out. Glorfindel mounted Asfaloth and led the party, keeping a slow, steady pace so that carriers could keep up with him, while Angapher and Celnar guarded the rear of the procession on their own horses. Elrohir rode beside the stretcher, keeping an eye on his brother in case he woke up and needed anything.

They were almost halfway home when Elladan let out a small groan, his eyes fluttering open.

"Welcome back, brother," Elrohir said, smiling.

Elladan looked around, confusion reflected in his eyes.

"We are taking you home," Elrohir explained.

Elladan's lips formed a silent 'oh' in understanding, and he sighed in a tired manner. There was a moment's pause as he tried to collect his thoughts, and then he looked up at his brother again. "How did you find me?" he asked softly.

The answer came in the form of a soft whinny. Elladan turned in mild surprise and saw Sadron obediently following Angapher and Celnar. He blinked, thinking that his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"He's there indeed," Elrohir said, smiling. "He has his own share of wounds, but he will recover - more quickly than you, in fact."

Elladan sighed again. "You and father will keep me in bed, I trust?" he asked wryly.

"Even tie you on it if you so much as think of moving an inch away from it!" Elrohir declared in a mock-warning tone, and Elladan couldn't help but laugh softly.

Just then, Glorfindel faced them, a smile on his lips. "I see some of our men coming in our direction. The others must have already arrived to Imladris and told Elrond what happened."

"Are they far from here, Glorfindel?" Elrohir asked.

"I would say about a quarter of an hour's ride or so. I shall go and fetch them." With that, the seneschal rode forward, letting the dark of night swallow him out of sight. As soon as he was gone, Elladan turned to Elrohir, eyes locked on his brother's form.

"You won."

Elrohir stared at his twin in confusion. "Won what?"

"The wager. I saw the wild ducks tied on Malthen's saddle."

"Ah, I see," Elrohir smiled broadly. "You seem to forget something though."

"Oh?"

"You killed several Wargs, including a huge black one."

Elladan chuckled softly. "That can hardly be considered edible game."

"It will still make a good story to tell Estel when he comes back."

"What?" Elladan asked, blinking.

"Do you really think he will not return to see you when he hears about your misadventure?" Elrohir said, grinning. "In fact, he will join me and father in nursing you back to health!"

Elladan actually cringed. The mental image of the human fussing over him – him, an immortal! – made him think that perhaps he should have been careful what he wished for. He sighed, trying not to mind Elrohir's mirthful laughter as it echoed through the air, clear as crystal. The next few weeks till his recovery would prove quite challenging indeed.

**The End**

**Footnotes**:

_Man cennich, mellon nín?_: What did you see, my friend? (Sindarin)

_Nestatha, Sadron. Avo 'osto_: He will heal, Sadron. Don't fear. (Sindarin)


End file.
